


The Same Deep Water As You

by Carmenghia



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenghia/pseuds/Carmenghia
Summary: A chance encounter; the space between stasis and action.
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	The Same Deep Water As You

**Author's Note:**

> I thought a lot about Tarkovsky’s Solaris and Marker’s La Jetée after I watched Prospect, and I had a film student mood. This has been rolling around in my drafts for a while and I finally sat down to finish it. It’s a bit self-indulgent on my part but overall pleased with how it turned itself out. 
> 
> Set after the events of the film. I find Ezra incredibly challenging to write and besides this interlude, nothing larger has come to me yet. A little melancholy, but had to get this out of my brain queue because it refused to stop tugging at me. I don’t usually go this soft, but Ezra makes me feel a certain way.

_An unadulterated trust will grow between them, without memories or plans._

\--

A sharp inhale of breath startled him awake, the strain and pulse of a dream lingering into his waking hour, the dust of the room shifting and settling around him. 

The lazy focus in his eyes sharpened; the discordant shapes formed into the barest of abodes he afforded for himself. 

He was still on Cesuna, but had been dreaming of acrid air, the supposition of trust, and missed opportunity. In his dreams, he still had his truest friend; he could still prospect. The past made the current, the haunted measures of Akra-core rock and the barest of escapes caused night sweats and fear in the unbidden hours of the deep, dark cycles that he yet to get used to on the planet. 

Cee had left shortly after they had docked, assured that his convalescence in the medbay would prove fruitful. The Fringeling pod had been left in her wake and he had graciously seen to claim it as his own once recovered. 

When he had landed a month ago, a data seller he passed on his way to his temporary lodgings had a used book selection, and he had bought _The Streamer Girl_. He had yet to read it, but the fact of its possession provided a tenuous connection to the girl that had chosen to save him. He often turned the cover over in his hands, its swirling and shimmering designs faded from its previous owner’s fingers. Well-loved. It was rare of him to be so sentimental, but there was no one to admonish his soft gesture. 

It was his sincere wish that she had found her way to the Ephrate. There was no malice left in him for the loss of possibility left barren by his last cycle on the moon. 

Cesuna was the closest planet where he could offload his wares, the remaining Aurelac burdensome after the events that had transpired and eager buyers on a planet with such a large population were more than happy to make a fair trade. Without his good arm, Ezra was bereft; the weight of loss so profound that in his dreams, his arm was bigger than he remembered, and far more mightier. 

His funds were dwindling down to the barest of cente-points and Ezra knew that he must reorient his condition to one that he knew better than any.

Survival.

\--

_Looking for someone with sharp eyes and even sharper wits._

The recruitment flyer hung by a bit of mottled tape; haphazardly thrown up in a place where no one would take up the offer. 

The small cafe was a place for travelers, everyone going somewhere to do something. She liked to sit facing toward the large windows, the hustle as people walked to and from the launchport, an enticement that made her feel that something better was just a flight away. 

She dreamed that she was on her way to Asra, it’s warm waters and miles of bright purple sand beaches a hopeful respite from the drabness of the browns and greys of Cesuna. 

Zénaïde had left when they finished Academy many years ago and from time to time, she would get a package of pictures with the most beautiful vistas, a bottle of that sand tucked in with the sweetest sugarflowers she’d ever tasted.

The downturn after the last war, and shift in the economy right as she left school had meant that jobs were more luck than talent. She survived but found herself stuck right where she was, even after the world had recovered and others had moved on. And the entropy had gripped her and made her start to think staying was better than going. She had never resorted to becoming a tunneller, but some friends had and some still lived in the large catacombs underground. 

When she was younger, she would venture down there, but it had gotten too dangerous for outsiders. 

Solenne hated to admit it, but the browns and greys on the surface suited her, fear rotting her soul. 

This time allowed a place to pretend she wasn’t who she really was; where long hours of drifting and dreaming of other worlds gave her the hope that one day she’d be brave enough to put desire into action. 

She didn’t mean to stare at him as he walked in. Normally, she felt she could restrain herself from such obvious curiosity. He cut a stark figure against the drab denizens of the small cafe. He was most certainly a traveler, his dark outfit new, all crisp lines and vivid color. 

Tracking him as he ordered a deca-noir, then as he sat against the wall, his eyes scanning as if he was waiting for something or someone. 

She let her eyes travel across the expanse of the faces that moved within the walls, but she returned to his; his aquiline nose, eyes that told of countless sorrows, a roughness that belied something much more complicated about the purpose for his presence. His was a beauty that made her ache, so much that she felt the jolt of pain travel across her stomach, settling deep inside her chest. 

She wanted to know him. 

The man he seemed to be waiting for joined; and the soft words were imperceptible in the din of the room. A negotiation of sorts; perhaps a job? The man shook his head multiple times, his hand raising in surrender, a sly smile as he chatted rapidly to keep the other man interested in what he had to say. 

A desperate confidence that made him even more attractive. 

She wondered perhaps, as they talked, what would happen should the terms be agreeable. What was the traveler going to be doing? When would he leave? 

These were the games she played with the most interesting people to grace the four walls. She loved to make up stories, wishing she was part of them. In her mind, where she was brave, she _was_ one of them. 

The two men left at the same time, but not together, and she watched the object of her fascination walk toward one of the boarding hostels that lined the road, his head briefly looking up toward the sky, his arm wiping away something in his eye. 

\--

Ezra packed up his meager belongings, ready to leave the planet as soon as he could. 

Adapting and accepting a situation for what it presented was always a strong point of his. His meeting and agreement of employment had been welcomed with much enthusiasm and he was off to Lunart to manage a team prospecting Tafficant. He had not mined for such gems in the past, but knew they favored the harsh conditions of mountainous planets, where ore had been pressurized over many meta-cycles. The job would spare his lungs, the toxic of the Green still with him, especially at night, in coughing fits and wheezes. 

The same cafe he had stopped at the previous day came into view. He felt uncomfortable in such establishments. Being on the Fringe for so long made the euphoric clang of a city feel claustrophobic. However, they carried many provisions that he would need to prevent starvation before he made it to the spacehub. 

He entered and carefully selected various bars and packs that would provide the maximum amount of nutrition with the least amount of time. As he turned to leave, he saw the same woman he had noticed the day previous, in the same spot as she was before. As If she knew what he was thinking, she turned toward him, hunger for something clear across her face. 

Ezra found her to be pleasing to look at it, and was happy to see that she had noticed him. He remembered that he looked different than he used to and he wondered if it was the lack of something that caused such a directed look thrown his way. 

He walked over, a swagger to his walk that he normally reserved for confrontation. 

“Hello miss. It would seem that my lack of an appendage has caught your eye. I must admit, it is a startling omission for me as well. It was a rather unfortunate affair, but I assure you that I was duly compensated for my participation in the matter that caused it to occur.” 

“Not your arm.” The woman said clearly, seemingly surprised by the tone of her voice and his closeness. 

Ezra cocked his eyebrow, confused as to what else it could be. 

“What then?” He leaned into her space, his eyes curious. She smelled like sandalwood and taligis, fresh but earthy. 

“Your hair.” 

She reached out boldly to run the barest touch through his errantly colored locks and his body shivered at the way her nails scraped against his scalp. 

“My friend Zénaïde has a similar patch, but on the back of her head.”

His eyes crinkled slightly as he composed himself. “A birthmark, a rarity in this world, but it would seem that you have had a bit of serendipity with finding people with such irregularities.”

“They are markers from your past life.” 

Ezra stilled, his attention turned. He sat in the empty seat across from her, his eyes alight. 

“Is that so? I have never heard of such tales told in all my travels. Do tell me your name so that I may properly converse with you.”

“Solenne.” The woman curled the last e slightly, her accent untraceable to even Ezra’s worldly ears. 

He lifted his hand, his fingers curling slightly as he held hers. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Solenne. I am Ezra. Now, do tell me, are you some sort of seer, or perhaps you know the future? I would entreat you to tell me how my next prospecting job will resolve itself if that is the case.”

She shook her head slowly. “No such thing. I just know that those kinds of birthmarks are supposed to indicate what happened before, in another life.”

“That is fascinating. So, what tragedy befell my previous self?”

She looked at him, her eyes serious. “Something with your head. The birthmark that remains is where your oldsoul left your body. Perhaps you were shot, or took a fatal blow to the head.”

He gazed at the woman across from him. He had recalled that Solenne meant ‘solemn’ in an old language whose tongue escaped him. There was also a sadness to her, like she was remembering a place that didn’t exist, people who were no longer there, and feelings that were memories slipping through her grasp. 

“As you sit here in repose, Solenne, what do you think about?”

She shifted, her eyes focused on the world outside. “Leaving, and the fear of leaving.”

Intrigued, Ezra probed. “What is there to fear? Many places are just like this and the ones that are not, are really not all that different.”

“That it’s too late.” 

Ezra paused. He had never given a moment to think of what staying in one place meant for the body and soul. He was, after all, from nowhere, and he traveled everywhere. 

“That is, perhaps the saddest thing I’ve heard in all my time in this world.” His eyes softened as the woman exhaled slowly.

“I sit here to watch the travelers. I dream of their lives. I wish I was like them. Like you.”

Ezra shook his head slowly, concerned. “Do not wish to be me, little dreamer. I am not what I seem. Living in the world means choices that may not always be easy. If you are not prepared to leave this planet, you are not prepared to make those choices.” 

She sat back, studying him, her eyes raking over him in a way that told Ezra that while she may feel like a flower in stasis, she was not, in any way, unaware of attraction. It was a hunger that he didn’t expect to see so barely contained in such an unassuming package. 

A warmth inside him grew, enamored by her blatant desire. 

“I am not immune to the beauty of the opposite sex, and I must tell you that I find you perhaps the most resplendent visage I have come across in many cycles.”

He reached his hand over, palm up. A bold move, even for him. 

Solenne ran her finger down the side of his palm, as she closed her eyes. 

“Your lifeline is strong. You have stars in your line. That means that great prosperity will come your way.” Her finger rested where his fingers met his palm, its warmth sending spindles of fire into his body.

He held her gaze, the deep rumble of need so great that it would take nothing for him to stay, to encourage more of her passion. To feel fire where a spark was simmering. 

Ezra knew that such indulgences ended often as they started. Passion and anger were emotions he was well acquainted with, and in his mind, the same thing.

He curled his hand around her tender finger. 

“I fear Solenne that you have caught me at a most inopportune time. I am about to leave for my next job. I would be pleased to walk with you to my pod, if you so desire.”

She looked surprised but when she said yes, he was happy that she had not demurred from such a gesture. 

They walked slowly, Ezra allowing himself to draw out the minutes as he watched her sway slightly to the music wafting from a speaker near the jetty. 

“This is the first time I’ve been inside the jetty.” 

“In all this time looking at it?” He felt truly sad for her. 

“It seemed useless to walk through with nowhere to go.”

Ezra stopped and pulled her close, the need to convey something akin to hope overwhelming his soul.

“Do not let your hunger go unfed.” Ezra whispered as he brushed his lips against hers, the kiss as full of the world as he could make it for her. 

Her lips spoke to him, their movements desperate, skilled, and full of all the days left dreaming, sitting, watching through glass instead of living. He let her hands squeeze him, pressing her body against him so tight that if he thought ill of her, he would have thought she was trying to kill him. He let her explore him, the tension of her body like a crashing wave, shivering as she raged into him, cold and hot all at once. 

She loosened her grip and let her hands play in the light of his hair one last time, the touch reverent.

With a soft touch to her forehead and a retreating look, he opened the door and disappeared into the confines of his tiny pod. 

She stood stock still as he let loose his engines, and her hair whipped around her face, her eyes searching as he slowly disappeared in the sky. 

Perhaps one day, he would return to see her gone. 


End file.
